


Start Spreading the News

by arcanemoody



Category: Saturday Night Live, Weekend Update (SNL)
Genre: (namely the 1990s and 2000s), Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Awkward Flirting, Christmas Party, Christmas Smut, Clubbing, First Dates, First Kiss, First Time, Gay Male Character, Internalized Homophobia, Light BDSM, M/M, Pansexual Character, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:28:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26823679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcanemoody/pseuds/arcanemoody
Summary: Two-time Independent Spirit Award-winning screenwriter Stefon Zolensky makes the jump to writing (and, subsequently, performing) late night sketch comedy. The more bizarre (and best) things are yet to come.
Relationships: Seth Meyers & Stefon, Seth Meyers/Stefon
Comments: 18
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this post](https://ghosthowls.tumblr.com/post/176776919113/someone-on-the-snl-discord-brought-up-that-time).

_“David Allan Zolesky (b. 10 April) and Stefon Stardust Zolesky (B. 23 August) are American film and television screenwriters and producers._ _Collectively known as_ ** _Zolesky Brothers_** _, they have worked as a writing and producing team through most of their professional film careers._ _\--_ The Zolesky Brothers - Wikipedia.org  
  
 _*  
_ _  
_

 _ **Writer:**  
_ ⁃ Gene Therapy (1994) _Independent Spirit Award: Best Original Screenplay Nominee_

⁃ Mondo (1997) _Independent Spirit Award: Best Original Screenplay (Winner)_

⁃ Mike’s New Car (2002) (uncredited)

⁃ What Is It Good For? (2003, short)

⁃ Hare and Loathing in Las Vegas (2004, short) (uncredited)

⁃ Girlhood (2004) _Independent Spirit Award: Best Original Screenplay (Winner);_ _Academy Award nominee: Best Original Screenplay  
_

⁃ BURN-E (2008) (uncredited)

_**Misc. Crew:**  
_ ⁃ Hellraiser IV (1993) (as Stefan Zolesky)

 _ **Actor:** _  
-Hellraiser IV (1993)  
Overseer  
-What is it Good For? (2003, short)  
Stef  
-Factory Girl (2006)  
Lou Reed  
-The Pity Card (2006, short)  
Eric

 _\--_ Stefon Zolesky’s IMDb page. 

*

 _“_ _Since the awards-winning success of_ **_Girlhood,_ ** _the Zoleskys have been working separately on different projects: David has returned to screenwriting and producing, often focusing on family dynamics and healing wounds between generations in the majority of his scripts including 2011’s_ **_Earl and the Art of the Saving Throw_ ** _; while Stefon, the more obscure and subversive writer, has moved into theater and improvisation work. He co-founded the Edie Sedgwicks improvisational and sketch comedy troupe with writer-director Susie Clue in residence with the Upright Citizens’ Brigade. He joined the writing staff of_ **_Saturday Night Live_ ** _in July, 2008…”_ _\--_ The Zolesky Brothers - Wikipedia.org 

\--  
  
Stefon recognized that, to many, it was an odd career move. It was certainly the outlier on his IMDb page -- save his inclusion as ‘Stefan Zolesky,’ production assistant on _Hellraiser IV_ and his “uncredited” script doctoring for a handful of animated shorts for Disney and Warner Brothers. His sense of comic timing had endeared him to a lot of fellow writers and helped pass the time during long shoots. Keeping in touch with Adam S. had led to an intro to Bob. Getting tapped by Bob for _The Pity Card_ had opened the door for meeting Susie, which had spawned long conversations about improv and absurdist humor and how much they both missed New York… 

It had started as a lark, something to burn off nervous energy between pitch and pre-production (always in development hell no matter how many prestigious awards they brought home to the studios). And, after the emotional push-pull of that last project, it was something that allowed him to relax and regroup.

He had missed the theatre camp years that so many creatives experienced in their teens -- either interred at summer school or summering with cockroaches at the Chateau Marmont. Performing live kept him sharp, helped with his anxiety -- when it didn’t make him blind with migraines an hour before the show. And it allowed him to be as outrageous as he _never got to be_ : Stefon Zolesky, two-time Independent Spirit Award winning screenwriter, wide-eyed and speaking in tongues, sometimes pretending to be a mother or a corpse or a table; always feeding off the energy of a live experience. Beyond the threshold of terror, it was a high unlike anything he was not allowed to remember. 

The Upright Citizens Brigade were everywhere -- considering it was their Sunset theater the group used. Stefon could never remember any of the core members’ names when it counted apart from the elusive Amy who showed up for multiple shows. Terror dissolved his brain every time one of them hugged him, unprompted, or cornered him to talk how much they loved _Gene Therapy_ or _Girlhood_. 

It happened more often as the first year bled into the second. So much so, he barely noticed when Lorne Michaels showed up in the audience for two shows. With an unimpressed Tina Fey and a gentleman who called himself Black George Washington in tow. The latter of whom, apparently, had been to _six_ shows before raising the alarm on Stefon.

“He’s hilarious. And a _freak._ You need him.”

To Stefon’s astonishment, Lorne Michaels agreed.

David took his abrupt departure in stride. The return to New York wasn’t surprising (his brother’s pining for his home city was nearly as old as the hair gel in his medicine cabinet). Though jumping ship to _write sketch comedy_ in New York was definitely what his family had come to call a "Stefon" turn. One of those split-second decisions he occasionally made that upended his world, plus everyone else in a five-mile-radius. 

Things like dropping out of NYU. 

Having a prom night baby with Beth Jackson when 1) they were both visibly, _obviously_ gay and 2) she already had plans to move back to NOLA after graduation. 

Knocking on the door of Duncan Jones' Chelsea flat and asking if he might know what Stefon’s mother, Miss Stefonie "Stefon" Zolesky (nee Habersblatzen), had been blabbing about since his fifth birthday. (Duncan, it turned out, had an idea. Years later, Stefon would get an invite to the _Moon_ premiere. The photos of the two half-brothers posing on the red carpet were astounding).

The anxiety around that shared commentary drove him into Brooks Brothers suits and ties, hair always neatly combed with his blond highlights swept back, disappearing into rivers of gel. If he was a disaster, or inherently given to chaos, his life a series of tempests in a rotation of cracked teapots, he didn't have to give everyone the satisfaction of _looking_ the part. It also set him apart, visually: the well-dressed foil to David's casual polo necks and henleys, soft niceties to his stepfather's bluster and rage, tentative adult to Miss Stefon's permanent child. 

Writing with David gave him focus, but long projects tended to drain his energy. _Girlhood_ , a five-years-long collaboration with four different actresses of different ages, had been momentous, a career peak. The creation of which was a miracle of managed energies and the ending of which had crashed him for a good eight months.

In contrast, the frenetic pace of a weekly late-night show (writing until four in the morning with a group of hyperactive, hyper-talented people) infused him with a euphoric adrenaline high edged with sharp terror. Transitioning from writer to performer upped the euphoria, leaving floating through the weekly after party. It also made the anxiety worse -- not better, as Lorne had probably hoped. The _Update_ desk helped more, once Amy had the idea to stick him there (where she could hold his hand off camera and distract him with stories about her early days with UCB). The solid constraints of a long-established format and physicality of a desk and a single camera, a single teleprompter… it was grounding. 

He adjusted quickly and found his niche with some key colleagues and visitors: Kristin was the funniest person he had ever met. Andy was the most generous performer. Amy gave the best hugs. Snooki really needed to stop flirting with him, but otherwise everything else was fine. 

Fine. Electrifying in the best and worst possible ways.  
  
And then it was _just_ fine. Everything in between those two extremes was Just. Fine. “Normal” -- that thing his step-father had always insisted he wasn’t. The ontological argument for beige when it wasn’t turning his nerves into a Molotov cocktail. 

\--

New York when Stefon was 19 was different than it was for him at 31.

Sleeping on the floor of Beth, then David’s dorm rooms, chasing the thrill of a night out that turned into an early morning. He didn’t like Greenwich or the club kid venues, favoring instead the dungeons and leather bars, pop art exhibits, and the Colonial death tour. Hand in hand with whoever he met that night, sleeping off the hangover on the bus the next morning. 

His favorite, and longest night spot had been Dr. Pepper Potts’ discipline and static-free oxygen bar. Located in a boarded up, second floor walk-up on the upper west side of Chelsea, this place had _everything_ : parquet floors, glass tables, a no questions policy on body hair, all-marshmallow Lucky Charms. It held a maximum of 13.5 people and you had to be invited by the good doctor’s sub, Nurse Jackie. Jackie made you strip naked to get through the first door and change into a nitrile outfit or acrylic body paint of your choice (often awkward in New York winters). Before entering the second door, Pepper herself tested the pH of your saliva before letting you pick a dose from Chester the Gimp’s “pill pouch.” A sparkly Hello Kitty child’s purse that hung below his pony bit gag.

The rest of the evening would pass in blissful near-coherence as the guests danced the night away under a dozen black lights and trips of varying intensity. The walk of shame from Pepper’s lab floor was never painful. She made sure you had a cup of coffee and a hit of oxygen before you left, bidding adieu with a lipsticked kiss high on one cheek.

David always stared at him when he told those stories, as if he didn’t know whether to believe it or not. Even after the morning Stefon arrived back at their Seventh Street residence hall wearing a sparkly nitrile skirt, covered with smeared lipstick and scratches from Chester’s vampire gloves, carrying a plate of eggs. 

Those days had disappeared soon after he left college. With Los Angeles and P.A. work and the script for _Gene Therapy_ getting picked up by New Line, against all odds. 

Pepper’s place had been gone by the time he returned to the city -- off to perverted parts unknown. Though Beth had seen someone who might have been her at one of the private clubs a few years later. The boarded-up and graffitied ground floor of the building now housed a coffee shop that looked too hip for Stefon to enter, and left him with a grief that made his throat ache. 

It was only under the undue pressure of an adrenaline-fueled night followed by a beige morning that made him enter; in search of something caffeinated that would make it easy to look people in the eye and tell them what to do. 

“Hi! What can I get for you?”

Stefon looked up (into the bluest eyes he'd ever seen) and felt his mouth go completely dry.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The barista with the killer fashion sense (and the bluest eyes Stefon had ever seen) turned out to be an improv veteran.

** On Gene Therapy (1994): **   
  


_“_ Two brothers take a road trip before the older one returns for their final year of college… _Shot in grainy, desaturated 16mm film stock, reminiscent of **American Graffiti** …” – _Roger Ebert, Chicago Sun Times

_“The more explicit footage (including a side-trip through a roadside adult shop) relates to teen sexuality in a way that seems determined to not only refrain from titillating a (mostly) adult audience, but to shame and repudiate them..._

_“The Brothers’ gift for savagely emotional dialogue makes it a stand-out film in a season of stand-out films, particularly from the indie scene…The fashion in which the brothers’ relationship careens off the rails for seemingly no reason at all is gutting to watch and familiar for any younger family members left behind to deal with dysfunctional parents while watching their elders disappear over the horizon.” –_ San Francisco Chronicle. 

** On Mondo (1997): **   
  


_“Rolling Stone calls it a ‘dirty **Shampoo (1974)’** …Indeed, the lens itself seems to be covered with a thin film of urban blight straight out of late ‘60s Chicago…Surreal elements with a frank look at adult sexuality in the period…”—_ The Village Voice.

_“_ On the eve of the 1968 election, the residents of a high rise on Lake Shore Drive go about their daily lives… _The traditional, straight married couples are framed as emotionally arrested and creating miserable spectacles without apparent cause. In contrast, the one queer couple among their upper middle-class friends are reserved, closeted, mutely tolerant of their friends’ tantrums but nearing their fill a mere seven months before Stonewall…The kids are as disgusted with their parents as the mated queers and elderly singles. Even the “lucky” son of a “hip” mother is not immune to the power imbalance abruptly tilted against him and his contemporaries at a particularly vulnerable age…”_ The Advocate _._

 _“The analogs for Stefon Zolesky — the younger son of a groupie and a (rumored) rock star god — are always smaller, more subdued next to sexy moms, loud female friends, even a distant female vocalist in an elevator (Claustrophobic Elijah in **Mondo** is trapped between floors on one of the elevators, with Janis Joplin playing on the speakers. He winces, hyperventilates, screams, pounds the mirrored walls, before finally reaching a meditative endpoint, dancing and singing along. Elijah has faced himself, his own worst enemy, faced his fear and can now connect with joy)…” _–A Boys’ Life: Male Adolescence in 1990s Comedies _._

**On Girlhood (2004):**   
  


_“_ A neurotic writer and her young daughter escort her best friend’s troubled niece on a trip to the site of the Crazy Horse memorial… _The script was written in direct collaboration with the actresses. Much of the dialogue and events described are directly lifted from several conversations over several group trips the Zoleskys took with the cast over a year…_ ** _Girlhood,_** _per the input from Bedard, Sevigny, Lynskey, and even little Racquel Castro, is a more complicated animal than other improvised film projects both already released [Michael Winterbottom’s **9 Songs** ] and in-the-works [John Cameron Mitchell’s **Shortbus** ]. All of the actresses contributed to the script and all are credited as writers…” _– Roger Ebert, Chicago Sun-Times

_“The sex scene between Sam and Maggie (Lynskey), where the world tilts, and Sevigny orgasms onscreen as Maggie whispers in her ear “boy... my sweet baby boy... I’m going to take such good care of you.” A direct challenge to the MPAA board members who trimmed back the love scene in **Boys Don‘t Cry** , because they’d been offended by Sevingy’s orgasmic facial expressions. It’s the first ‘good’ sex scene the Zoleskys have ever written, without shunning the voyeurs, mocking the elders who fetishize queer bodies, black bodies, women’s bodies, teenage bodies. The scene closes in on the two actresses’ faces, cloaking any mid-ground undressing or hurried fumbling in shadow. Without nude bodies to ogle or a man to ‘tap in,’ this scene is not for the male gaze. It is not for the older viewers to be sinfully titillated. It is erotic, intimate, focused on the intense emotions up to and including pleasure. It’s not for you. – _ The Advocate _._

_“The young lesbians ride off into the sunset, two more Midwest gays fleeing towards civilization. Like **Mondo** , it is a powerful indictment of the heartland on the eve of yet another contentious election in which one party has made condemning gay rights a cornerstone of their campaign. By the end of the film, the family has passed through Arkansas, Missouri, Nebraska and South Dakota -- three states that have gay marriage bans on the ballot during the upcoming election and one voted into law last August… This film is coded as queer for the non-traditional family structure in the film: the single parent, the out lesbians breaking free, and the couple ‘in all but name’ played by Irene Bedard and Jennifer Jason-Leigh. United at the conclusion to compare notes on the eventful week they each had, seated on rocking chairs on the porch, side by side…”—_Not Chasing Amy: How 2000s Queer Cinema Killed ‘90s Kitsch. _  
  
\--  
  
_ It was John Mulaney's fault. For being incorrigible. For being his lawyer, Shy’s, too-adorable, too-talented doppelganger (so telling him no always felt like Stefon was letting down a friend). For having the temerity to also live in Chelsea and dragging Stefon to get coffee with him at the same cafe _every morning_ for almost two weeks. 

Finally, it was his fault that, halfway through the second week, he _finally_ took the liberty of introducing his boss to the barista. 

Seth Meyers was two inches shorter than Stefon. He had sculpted, patrician features with a warm smile. The fact that he occasionally took orders in an exaggerated Boston accent or broken French was almost incidental because Stefon always (ALWAYS) _lost his own voice_ when attempting to give his order. 

Seth Meyers seemed to take it in stride, smiling and taking John’s direction for both orders each day. 

Having a name to the face was almost too much. He fidgeted with his sleeves to keep from covering his mouth with his hands.

 _Just breathe normal, Stefon,_ he told himself.

That advice flew out the window the second Seth Meyers stepped out from behind the counter, delivering their order in pleather pants (skin-tight with vestigial zippers) and holographic silver glitter “Space Oddity” ankle boots.

—

Seth Meyers, the well-dressed barista with the lovely smile and killer fashion sense, turned out to be a Second City-trained improv veteran who had done a two-year residency in Amsterdam and stayed for an extra ten. He had a younger brother who had written and acted on a rival sketch comedy program on another network. He’d been in New York for seven months, doing pop-up shows in nightclubs, which had blurred into a “melange” of overlapping careers vacillating between improv, club promotion, occasional stand-up usually in a skirt, sometimes covered in panna cotta (though that last part had been a result of “high spirits from the front row”).

“In an insane times,” he said, “absurdity is the only rational response.”

"I want him,” Mulaney said, making Stefon blink.

"As... what?"

"City correspondent. I think it could be a good bit! Have Seth turn up at the _Update_ desk, give us the lowdown on the latest bizarre hotspot that’s just opened. Five minutes of dry comedy, good release valve." 

“Reality, even through the lens of insanity, tends to be a lot less funny in person than on paper.”

“Not this kind of stuff. Did you see the email he sent me last month?”

Stefon shrugged.

“Hang on, I’ll forward it to you once we’re back at work.”

He did. Stefon covered his mouth at the part of ‘rooms filled with broken glass.’

"All right. Write up some copy and bring him to the table read. We'll see what Lorne says."

\--

Lorne Michaels _loved_ Seth Meyers. 

Loved him with a rapidity that shocked Stefon and many of the others who had campaigned for years to earn their boss and mentor's smallest praise. It rankled Will in a way that made Stefon glad he had a foot out the door. It delighted Amy who, it turned out, had actually _met_ Seth Meyers a decade earlier in Amsterdam. She spent the week commandeering her new (old) friend for long lunches, the two of them loudly sweeping in and out of the elevator, laughing like ten-year-olds.

Stefon didn’t mind. It made it easy to focus on editing the script, keeping the iron butterflies in his stomach at bay.

Until that is, the afternoon he looked up to see Seth perched on the edge of his desk eating a croissant.

“Hello, Seth Meyers. I’m pretty sure the vending machine you got that from is haunted.”

“Hi,” he replied, unfazed. Stefon wondered if John or one of the others had clued him in to Stefon’s anxious verbal tics -- things like using someone’s full name in conversation. Or referring to himself in the third person.   
  
"Did you and John write up another draft?"

The table read had gone well, with a decent reaction from the other cast members. Stefon had given his approval before bolting from the room — an odd fear coiling in his stomach. Saying the wrong thing or the right thing. He hadn’t been this scared to breathe around someone in at least 12 hours...

"We've got an outline, but I wanted to run some more lines by you. 'See what you think." 

The pages were typed, even more meticulous than what he was used to getting from John, Marika and Simon. If he spent a longer minute reviewing and editing than he usually did… it had nothing to do with the fact that Seth was leaning over his shoulder, just at the edge of his personal space. Nor did the hand that came up to cover his mouth and the lower part of his nose.

“Good? Not good?” 

"It’s good. We may want to leave a gap in the middle here, room for improvisation."

"That's what we were thinking.” His voice turned conspiratorial, head sucking in closer. “Actually, I think Mulaney’s goal is to get me to break on camera." 

“ _Do_ you break on camera?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Stefon smiled.

“I say it’s a go then. We’ll see how it plays at dress.”

\--

The dress rehearsal was good enough that John and Seth’s “city correspondent” got moved to the close of the segment.

Seth Meyers rolled in on cue, wearing a Marc Jacobs Victorian blouse made of black bar lace and not much else. 

On the premise of giving tips on the hottest rave spots for New Yorkers looking for a Spring Break fun, Seth gave the audience a list of library collections young freaks and perverts could find at the New York Public Library, most of which had to do with mechanical engineering, one of which was on Nelly Bly’s lesser known undercover exposes— in the tanning shops of the lower east side (tanneries, not tanning), and a third on the writing of _The Thorn Birds._

To Stefon’s surprise, _he_ was the one who broke on camera, hiding breathless giggles behind his hands and hearing his tone spike upward half an octave as he, while acknowledging this was _not_ what they’d been looking for, invited Seth Meyers back on air. 

It was the best reaction his solo _Update_ slot had ever gotten from an audience.

It was the best reaction _he’d_ ever gotten from an audience.

“Good work,” Lorne said. “Now, make sure to bring him back.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seth Meyers kept coming back.

“Stefon Zolesky’s DVD Picks”  
561,672 views • Apr 19, 2011  
**criterioncollection** (TubeTube)  
  
Acclaimed screenwriter and SNL funnyman Stefon Zolesky stops by the Criterion Collection DVD closet.  
  
\--

STEFON: Oh my. [covers his nose and mouth with both hands]. This place really DOES have everything…

Well, first and foremost, I’m going to grab **_Flesh for Frankenstein_. **This was a favorite of my mother’s. She’s a native New Yorker and Andy was an icon of her youth. She talked about meeting Brigid Berlin on the subway like some people talk about meeting a religious leader in church.

**Vagabond** moved me in many ways that I couldn’t really explain at the time. Agnes Varda has this wonderful, somber quality to her stories. It’s not hard to leave me beyond words, but she does it better than most.

This one -- **Spirit of the Beehive**. I haven’t seen it yet, but it’s one that my brother recommended I see. **Grey Gardens** is one of those classics that I hadn’t seen until very recently. A friend of mine told me about a drag artist who jumped out of a cake dressed as Little Edie and I wanted very much to understand the context of that…  
  
**In the Mood for Love**. Because it made me cry in the theater. That story of missed connection, and love thwarted by circumstance and cultural expectations and family expectations. I…just absolutely went to pieces. They had to help me out of my seat and into a taxi afterward. There was just no consoling me.

[Fingers pluck a final title from the shelf -- **The Man Who Fell to Earth;** STEFON glances at the camera knowingly, tucking the case under his jacket and hurrying out].

  
\--  
  
Seth Meyers did come back. 

Seth Meyers _kept_ coming back. Turning up each time in the same lace blouse, fishnets, and a new pair of designer boots named after one of Stefon’s father’s songs. He shook Stefon’s hand at the end of each segment, often while Stefon held back tears of laughter; barely holding it together as his city correspondent described lectures on amateur carpentry followed by at least one club full of puppets in disguise and little people jumping into kiddie pools full of coleslaw in the parking lot behind the Guggenheim.

Seth Meyers didn’t seem to mind and neither did the audience.

They had cut down the draft process to allow for spontaneity — specifically jokes that made Seth smile and Stefon frantically conceal his giggles behind his hands on camera. They would rush the drafted script through dress rehearsal and then mentally prepare for whatever surprises Mulaney would add to the cue cards during the live show. With Seth’s drastic schedule, they also eliminated their portion of the show from the table read — rehearsing one-on-one throughout the week, Seth either leaning on his desk or sitting knee-to-knee with him, poring over the same pages or laptop screen. 

“ _Who_ exactly is supposed to be haunting the vending machine again?” Seth asked, taking the last two bites of a cereal bar. He was seated on an actual office chair today -- one glittery “Lady Stardust” stiletto crossed over the opposite knee.

“It depends on who you ask… a lot of the writers seem to think it’s says Belushi, but I personally think it’s Tom Davis.”

“I’m not dead, Stefon,” the gray-haired man drawled from the doorway, crumbs still in his beard from his most recent late-night lunch with Lorne

“Have you checked lately?” he teased, grinning until the elder statesman disappeared from view. “It _could_ be O’Donohue. Every time I need aspirin, that section is out.”

“Oh, that makes sense, sure...” Seth smiled, holding up a marked page. “You underlined this one -- too obscure?”

“No, I absolutely believe there’s a drag queen who pops out of a cake dressed as Little Edie Beale, doing her patriotic improvised tap from cult classic _Grey Gardens_.”

“As well you should!” Seth smiled. “I helped them choreograph that bit, actually. Of course, I’m an even worse dancer than Little Edie…”  
  
“Still, we should probably cool it on lines referring to the venues and activities themselves as ‘gay.’” Severing the show from the homophobic anxiety of their previous writing staff had been difficult, with some recent writers clinging to their early 90’s references and period-typical sensibilities. Stefon had responded by retrieving his Independent Spirit awards from underneath the sink and planting them on his desk. His superior cultural cache was grudgingly respected. 

“We can if you want to,” Seth replied, smiling as usual. “Though it’s not an unfair description — there’s a _lot_ of us there most nights.”

Us. Stefon felt the heat rush to his face.

_Us._

“Oh.”

“Well, it’s a mix really: gay, straight, bi… pan.” he replied, a special emphasis on the last word.

“Oh...oh! Yes…” he stammered, covering his mouth before five other ‘yesses’ could emerge. “Of course.”

Seth’s eyes glittered good-naturedly. “It’s not exactly a secret, Stefon. But if it were, I still would have told you.”

That... Stefon felt his cupped hands press even closer to his face, as if all the butterflies that had suddenly appeared in his stomach could fly out at any moment. He waited a long moment, blinking away the wetness that had filled his eyes. 

“I understand," he finally said. "Thank you, Seth Meyers.”

The smile he received in return was muted, sweet rather than amused. Touched.   
  
"Thank _you_."

Stefon held his breath, still covering his mouth. 

The moment was broken a second later with a heavy rap of knuckles on the doorframe.

"And for your information," Tom Davis proclaimed, unasked and with great solemnity, "dead men have fought in every war!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season's Greetings.

"Stand-up Pop-up" at BLITZEN  
NEW YORK'S HOTTEST HOLIDAY CLUB 2010  
1,740,532 views • December 16, 2010  
 **Seth Meyers** (TubeTube)

Seasons' Greetings, NYC!  
  
  
\--  
  


[SETH MEYERS struts out onstage, wearing a Santa hat and waving a tiny American flag, accompanied by two human parking cones, one of whom carries his flag off stage as he steps up to the mic.]  
  
SETH: "Good evening, New York City! How are you?"

[The audience roars.]

SETH: "So, I met the ghost of John Belushi the other night by the vending machines. We didn't have much to talk about. He didn't like my dress..."

\--

It was the fourth appearance that changed everything.

The invitation to spend Christmas with him was _almost_ a joke. Stefon was racking his brain to think of a way to tell Seth Meyers that he didn’t really _go home_ for the holidays. His stepfather ran hot and cold with his appearances at the best of times and the reception in recent months had been particularly chilly. So, his holidays would be spent in the city, prepping for the January episodes and eating Chinese food. 

Seth Meyers had his song with David and Snooki — that bought him some time. He also tackled him out of the shot, waltzing him through the hallway. giggling and humming until they ended up in an office doorway where someone had hung a bit of plastic mistletoe with gaffer’s tape.

“Well,” he smiled. “That’s some very convenient decor.”

“Yes, yes, yes…” he laughed breathlessly, mortified as his hands came up between their faces to cover his mouth and nose. Anxious habits: the spoiler of so much good in the world.

Seth didn’t seem put off.

“Hey, uh… full disclosure: I’m on a couple things right now so this might be an overreach, but would you like to go out with me tomorrow night”

“Go...out?”

“Yeah, to OUNCE or to the lumber yards or one of the other parties. You can see what a proper New York Christmas looks like.”

“Isn’t this going to be your _first_ New York Christmas?” While Stefon himself had been re-christened by a drag queen at Studio 54 the night the bouncers wouldn’t let Cher in. 

“Details. Don’t change the subject,” Seth smiled. “Will you go out with me?”

Stefon was reasonably sure he said yes. The ringing in his ears made it hard to confirm.

—

Kino Domina 2 had _everything_ : femdoms, throw-up music, a juice bar serving hot cider and virgin eggnog, Taylor Negron in predicament bondage surrounded by eight tiny reindeer, a serving tray of iced sugar cookies shaped like menorahs, and Gaye Dunaway in a black leather Santa Claus outfit taking wishes from all the naughty little boys and girls. 

Stefon had ditched the tie from his usual suit and put his rings on before anxiety drove him away from the mirror and out to the front of the building. Seth Meyers smiled at him, ushering them into a taxi and up the stairs to the dungeon, impervious to icy sideways even in platform heels. 

“You did tell me there are no tops and bottoms at Christmas,” Seth smiled.

“I did say that, yes…”

“Don’t tell me you‘ve been here before?” he asked, not in the least put out.

Stefon's rings are cold as he steeples his fingers over his mouth. Was the pansexual man covered in sticky green tinsel and apple cider flirting with him or was he imagining that? Stefon felt like he’d been asking himself that question for eight months...

“Once or twice. A long time ago. ‘Eloquence’ is new,” he said, nodding toward the smaller play area. “They just had ‘Tumultus’ — the big room — when I was here.”

The big room, where Stefon had watched Batter Up cane her girlfriend to the rhythm of "The Beautiful People" from the comfort of a brass cage, occasionally being fed sweets through the bars by Melvin in a Dress. A blissful memory of a well-missed past, lost in tweed and linen.

“And here I thought I was showing you something new.” Seth is still smiling, but there's a faltering in there somewhere, paired with a growing curiosity. 

“It might as well be. That was before David and I went to L.A. Before Beth, before all of it.”

“You would have been a bit young for dungeon culture.”

“What can I say? It always makes me feel at home.” Makes, not made. The tense change made sense. Yes. Yes, _yes, yes, yes, yes_.

“Me too.”

“It doesn’t seem like it would be your thing. Or… I genuinely wouldn't have thought so a few months ago. Physically you’re like a respectable suburban dad in hot, high end gutter punk drag.”

Seth laughed. “I… I haven’t heard it described quite like _that_ before.”

“It’s a compliment.”

“Thank you. And you’re not wrong. I think I was always a secret lunatic. Writing allowed me to let it loose. Then living in Amsterdam kind of let _everything else_ loose. I told you -- in insane times, absurdity is the only rational response.”

“... I’ve sort of run in the other direction.”

“Yeah I get that. And the last thing I want to do is push, but I really like you. Will it make you more comfortable if _you’re_ the one in charge?”

Stefon felt tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, spilling over to run down his face. Icy trails that also burned. He wasn’t sure if it was the dim lights, that he’d let too many minutes elapse without blinking… or the fact that the back of his skull felt like it had blown out and the many, many secrets his brain had concealed were on display for all to see… 

He realized he’d stopped breathing when Seth ran a black glitter polished thumb across his cheek. His chest was tight as he leaned in to follow that path with his lips.

The feeling of Seth Meyers sliding into his lap, arms around his shoulders in the most tender hug he’d had… he felt overwhelmed, every cell of him turned liquid.

“Put your hands on my neck.” Seth might have whispered, if it weren’t for the loud house music blaring through the club speakers.

He did, fingers leaving what looked like heat trails on the lace.

“Tell me to kneel.”

“Kneel,” Stefon said, amazed at the steady purr that came out in place of his voice. More amazed when Seth did as he was told. “Oh… I _like you_ , Seth Meyers.”

“I like you, too. A l--.”

Stefon covered his mouth with his hand. “I don’t think I said you could _speak_.”

Blue eyes sparkled, small lines indicating Seth was grinning below his fingers, elated at the turn of events.

“ _Mmaaa ah speiyk?”_

“Not yet.” He kissed Seth’s brow, breathing in the citrus of his pomade, the salt of his sweat, before dropping his hand. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you, sir,” he replied. “No? Thank you… Master? Mr. Stefon? _Miss?_ ” 

Stefon felt a shiver go through him and Seth’s eyes sparkled again, like he’d gotten the answer right on a test. 

“God damn it, buddy,” he beamed, fingers gripping his thigh. “You’re _amazing_. ‘You know that?”

“I want you _so fucking much._ ”

Their progress went farther than Stefon had ever gone in public. He only realized it when he saw four pairs of eyes glancing at them from the sofa three feet away, while Seth leaned between his legs, lavishing his nipples where his J. Crew button-up had been pushed aside. The smell of cinnamon and apples rose off his skin tinged with sweat and heat as he tugged at Stefon’s nipple ring with his teeth.

“How many more secrets am I going to learn tonight?”

Stefon moaned.

— 

There were, it turned out, plenty of secrets to go around.

Seth Meyers liked having his hair pulled and being bossed around.

Stefon liked it when other people watched him ordering Seth around. He liked it when Seth called him “miss.”

They both _really liked_ the kneeling bench in Tumultus, particularly once Stefon adjusted the mirror next to it so he could see Seth‘s blue eyes. He petted and groped him under his leather skirt, jerked his cock from behind, left bite marks on his neck and shoulder; all while a mix of house music, winter ballads, and random Christmas sound effects pulsed in their ears.

Their first kiss afterward, impossibly, made the earth tilt even further. 

Wholesome, intimate, even with Seth‘s tongue in his mouth and his come on his hands and between their legs. There was color bursting beneath his eyelids, and every glimpse of the two of them in the mirror was an artistic revelation: Klimt in gold, Monet through his tears, Jackson Pollack’s “Greyed Rainbow.”

“Your place?” Seth asked, breathless in a way that made Stefon’s heart sing.

Stefon shook his head. _“Your place_."

“Yes, miss.”


End file.
